Once a soldier
by breathing is over-rated
Summary: John receives a letter calling him back to active duty. Rated T for now, may go up depending on later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**AN-** Ok, new story, brilliant. Everything is normal in the Baker household until John recieves a letter. No idea if any of this is factually true, so please try not to hold me to any of it. It just seemed like a good idea to right. The chapters will only be a couple of hundred words long each (trying something new). As always, please review (I'll update faster if you do). Not that I'd wish to bribe anyone in any way. I'm not that kind of person (Yes I am. Reviews=Quicker updates. Deal with it).

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Enjoy  
>x<p>

* * *

><p>An average day in London. Baker Street was overcast with the smoggy clouds that seem to always linger overhead. Outside, there was a distinct chill in the air-well there would be, in Britain and just coming out of winter. However; inside the relative warmth of 221b Baker Street, Doctor John Watson didn't notice any of this. The world around him had faded away into nothing because of the thin piece of paper he held in his hands. His heart thumped in his chest and a sweat caressed his brow as his steady hands opened the envelope. He already knew who it would be from.<p>

_Dear Dr. John Watson,_

_We are delighted to hear about your recovery, you have surpassed all expectations. _

_We are sure you know that your contract is still intact for another year and five months, therefore we would be delighted to reinstate you to your original position, being that of Major Watson, on active service. _

_As you are well aware, her majesty's army is always short of medics. Especially those with the qualities that soldiers like you possess. Therefore, we are requesting for you to be deployed with immediate affect. Special amendments have been made in regards to any after effects of the injuries you have sustained._

_You will be picked up at 8:00 on Saturday morning. _

_Yours Faithfully_

_General Jack Richardson _

John reread the letter for a fifth time then sat down with his now cold cup of tea. Thank God Sherlock had ran out earlier that morning for some kind of case. The doctor didn't think he'd be able to hide this from his flatmate. The soldier ran his hand down his face. He'd spent so long yearning for the battlefield and now that he'd finally found it in the form of London it seemed that the world had other plans for him. It took all of two seconds for John to come to the conclusion that he didn't want to leave. He sighed in defeat and check his watch. It was Thursday. That meant he had a day and a half to prepare.


	2. Chapter 2

John sat on his bed and stared at the large rucksack that he had packed, almost entirely with clothes. His room held practically everything of value he owned and he wasn't going to take any of it with him. He looked round at the various jumpers, pictures and various objects he'd picked up over the seven months of living with his genius flatmate. He sighed again and stood, stretching slightly, before making his way down stairs.

Sherlock still wasn't back, John decided that he'd probably been picked up by Mycroft for some reason or other. It was usually the case. Still, the longer he could put off seeing the detective, the better. He had no idea how he was going to tell his flatmate the news. The chances were that he would know as soon as he looked at John. Probably because of how he was standing or what he was wearing or something like that. The kettle whistled shrilly, making the doctor jumped as he suddenly remembered he had switched it on. In a sort of dreamlike state, John moved into the kitchen, grabbed his favourite mug-the one that Sherlock had been banned from touching on pain of an agonising demise-and made himself what he hoped would be a calming cup of tea. It wouldn't be but that didn't stop him from hoping.

After finishing his scolding cup of tea, John sighed and picked up the letter which he had put neatly back into it's envelope. He still didn't have the faintest idea how he was going to give the news to Sherlock. The bubbling knot of emotions inside him threatened to overwhelm him and he quickly squashed them, put them in a small box and placed the large rock of duty on top to stop them from escaping again. His country needed him. Just as his mind set itself on the task in hand, a new voice whispered from the back of his mind. _But Sherlock needs you too. _The soldier faltered slightly, recalling everything that had he had been told about the consulting detective. Sherlock had managed just fine before John had arrived, knowing the genius, he'd probably just delete everything about John and carry on as if he never existed. A pang of some unknown emotion hit the doctor and his physically winced before rounding up the stray feeling and placing it with the rest. The clock behind him struck twelve and the doctor suddenly realised how tired he was. With a groan, he stood and made his way up to his room. Pocketing the letter in his jacket, he undressed and slipped between the sheets of his bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock didn't come home that night. Nor the next day. It wasn't as if it was strange for the detective to go off for several days at a time without even a text to say of his absence but John felt himself becoming more anxious with each passing hour. As Friday drew to a close, the soldier scoured the flat and found a pen and some paper. He thought for an immeasurable amount of time before finally putting pen to paper. The words seemed to flow straight from his mind to his hand without him really thinking about what he'd written then he folded the letter and put it an envelope he had found lying round.

This was the bit that he hated most. The waiting. Knowing that he would be picked up the next morning and having no say in that. He had no idea what to do until then. The whole flat had been tidied, including Sherlock's room, though he knew the man would hate him for it. The experiments hadn't been touched, no matter how much John would have loved to have thrown them out and disinfected every surface. Mrs Hudson didn't appear until Friday afternoon. She took one look around and gave a sad smile.

'Doesn't Sherlock know, dear?' She asked. John tried a smile but it turned into a grimace.

'I've left a letter.' He answered. She sighed and bustled into the kitchen.

'I saw the envelope.' She called, switching the kettle on. 'I didn't think they allowed injured soldier back to the front line.' John froze. It seemed that he had underestimated the old, frail-looking landlady.

'Yes, well the army is in dire need of medics so I guess they've made an exception.' He replied with a certain bitterness in his voice.

'You don't want to go.' Mrs Hudson stated, carrying two cups of tea and handing one to the doctor who looked at it then took a sip, knowing it could be his last proper brew for quite a while now.

'I don't have a choice. I've still got a contract to uphold for a year and a half.' The doctor said emotionlessly. The elderly woman gave another sad smile as she stood up, taking a sip from her cup.

'You didn't answer my question.' She sighed. John opened his mouth but she stopped him from answering. 'It's ok, dear, I think I know the answer. Why don't you get that older brother of Sherlock's to sort it out. I'm sure he could.' She said, a fleck of hope in her voice. The doctor laughed mechanically.

'I'm sure he could too. But then the army would have one less medic and the body count would only go up. Either that or they'll get an inexperienced young man who's barely passed twenty and has next to no training for the battle field. I can't have that baring down on my consciousness, Mrs Hudson, I just can't.' The look in his eyes must have conveyed what he said because the woman nodded and put the cup on the draining board in the kitchen.

'I don't know how I'll cope without you to calm him down. You're his anchor, John. And something tells me that without you, he'll run the course that we've all been trying to steer him away from.' Then she left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Saturday morning. Sherlock still hadn't shown up. John sighed and carefully placed his laptop on the coffee table, turning it so that it faced his flatmate's sofa, then he placed the envelope addressed to said same man on top. He checked the time. _7:49. Ten minutes. _The soldier picked up his rucksack and headed downstairs. Mrs Hudson stood at the bottom of the stairs. When he reached the elderly woman, John hugged her tightly.

'Do whatever it takes to keep yourself alive.' Mrs Hudson said with an air of authority John had never heard her use before. 'Do that and then come home.' John didn't reply. There was no need to. Instead, he allowed her to straighten his military uniform and cup his face. The sound of a large vehicle pulled up outside, breaking the two out of the strange world they had found themselves in. John opened the door and stopped to look back.

'Tell him I'm sorry.' Then he walked out and up to the truck, throwing his bag into the back before climbing in himself.

* * *

><p>Mrs Hudson watched from the threshold of the house. It was a strange mix of feelings. The feeling of losing something but also the feeling of someone close losing so much more. Then there was the hope and the almost praying nature which called and begged for him to return home safely. The truck pulled away and John waved slowly as he passed her. She waved in return then walked back into the house, closing the door behind her. There wasn't anything she could do and standing there like a statue wasn't going to help anyone. The silence wasn't odd, a little disconcerting maybe but not odd. Sometimes her boys were out if the flat for days and others they had a small domestic and Sherlock would go off in a strop like a small child. What was odd was that the flat was completely tidy(bar the various trays of mould growing in the windowsill and the fingers in jars of goodness-knows-what). Normally, the landlady would have loved to see such cleanliness but now it just felt like there was a helplessly large hole were something important should be. The elderly woman laughed, it was silly behaviour and Sherlock most definitely wouldn't approve. She huffed another laugh and bustled out of the room and back downstairs into her own apartment. Her hip was playing up again and it was about time for her herbal soother.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock returned a day later. He entered the flat with a ridiculous smile. One which dropped as soon as he entered. His keen eyes swept over every surface then he ran up to the flat, taking the stairs two at a time. Mrs Hudson followed him up with a grim expression. She had left everything exactly how it was when John was picked up, he seemed to have put everything in the order he wanted it to be in for Sherlock so she had decided it was best to leave it that way. The detective spun round the room, checking everything until he finally sat on the sofa and stared at the pristine envelope which sat on the doctors laptop. He didn't move for many minutes then he finally picked it up, holding it delicately as if it would crumble under the pressure. Mrs Hudson watched from the threshold, seemingly unnoticed, as the detective turned the envelope round and carefully opened it up, slipping the paper out of its casing and unfolding it. The white page was graced with the oddly neat handwriting of John Watson. Under any other circumstances, Sherlock would have laughed. Doctors were supposed to have the worst handwriting in the world so the fact that John's was quite clear and precise was the source of much amusement for many that knew him well. But the detective wasn't interested in that. He read and reread the letter, cataloguing every word.

_Dear Sherlock,_

_You've probably figured out why I'm not home and why I won't be for quite some time. If ever. Sorry, that's defeatist. Anyway, I couldn't leave without some sort of goodbye._

_Again, you know why I've gone, so I guess I can save paper by not having to explain that to you. I had hoped to see you before I left but I can tell that's not going to happen. I didn't text you because your job requires you more than I do, though I guess you would probably call me all across London if you knew about this. _

_Anyway, I'm so sorry for leaving but I have to. Please don't call Mycroft or do anything to stop me leaving, not that you could since the chances of you finding out before I'm on my way over to the front line are very slim. Also, please don't do anything stupid. If you must, you can delete me and carry on as you were before we met but don't relapse or hid away and please don't end up in prison. I know I probably sound like your mother but I really do care (That's an emotion by the way) and I couldn't bare to think that you let your life go because of me. People need you. Not that that has ever swayed you before. _

_Ok. Make sure you eat, drink, try not to scare Mrs Hudson too much and don't die. Help the Yard- they definitely need it. Help other people- they need it too. And help yourself- Because I need you to. _

_God, this sounds so cliché. But, basically, I'm sorry for leaving you. It wasn't y choice but I'm going none the less. Afghanistan needs me as much as London needs you. I'll be back in about ten weeks. Hopefully. If you don't want me back, change the lock, I'll understand. Oh, and the laptop's yours. I don't think I'll have any use for it now._

_Sorry again,_

_John Watson_


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock trembled slightly. Mrs Hudson finally dared to move from the doorway, quickly walking to sit next to the detective, wrapping an arm round him like he had done for her when she'd been attacked.

'It's ok, dear.' She whispered, 'He'll come home.' Sherlock stared at her with a dark, empty look in his eyes.

'You can't be sure.' He replied. 'There's a chance he never even makes it to the front line. His plane could be gunned down or God knows what else. He could be killed as he leaves the plane. He could be shot on the battle field. He could be stabbed by a friend or patient or-' Sherlock's babbling was cut off by the elderly woman.

'Stop it.' She said firmly. 'Stop that right now. This is not like you, Sherlock. Now you better get your act together and stop acting like the girlfriend of those annoying footballers. What would John think if he came home to find you were a quivering mess on the floor? Hmm? Now I'm going to give you another ten minutes to wallow and get it out of your system but after that you're going to get a case and do what you do best.' Then she stood up and made her way out of the room, leaving a slightly gob smacked detective in her wake. After Sherlock's brain got over the immediate shock of being told to man up by his landlady, he smiled to himself and stood up. He had a promise to keep (well a request from a friend) and he was fully intent on living up to this one.

* * *

><p>Greg Lestrade was more than surprised to find the consulting detective waiting patiently outside his office. The DI looked at Sherlock thoughtfully but the lanky, dark haired man wasn't giving anything away.<p>

'What do you want?' He asked eventually, raising an eyebrow. Sherlock smiled lightly.

'I wish to try my hand at any cases you have. New cases, cold cases, burglaries, I don't care what. Just anything. I'll work on them in the building if you don't want me taking the files.' He replied in perfectly even tones. Lestrade watched him for a minute.

'Where's John?' He pressed, the eerie calm wasn't knew on Sherlock but something just didn't seem right. A flash of emotion flickered across the detectives face before a new mask was placed over it. The transaction was so quick that the DI couldn't even tell what the emotion was, though he had his suspicions.

'Not here. Now may I see the files?' Sherlock answered tersely. Greg stood his ground.

'No. And you won't get them until you answer my question. Properly.' Sherlock scowled at him but the detective inspector, for the first time in his life, stared the man down. And succeeded. The detective sighed and cleared his throat, averting his eyes. He shuffled and mumbled something unintelligible.

'Excuse me? Speak up.' Greg Lestrade said, tapping his foot and gaining another death glare from the detective.


	7. Chapter 7

'He's been called back to Afghanistan. Active service. They need more medics. No can I see the case files?' Sherlock spat, barely containing his anger. Greg Lestrade had expected the detective to say that John was at one of his string of girlfriends houses and had, for once, refused outright to attend to him every whim. Or perhaps they'd had a spat of sorts- he was the only officer in the Yard which actually believed that the two men weren't an item. This was entirely something else and he immediately regretted bringing it up as it seemed the dark haired man was struggling to cope with it. Sherlock scowled again.

'I'm not some sort of damsel.' He snapped. 'Now are you going to let me see the files or not?' Greg nodded and led him down the corridor to the room where they kept all the cold cases. Much to his dismay, there was a lot of them and the room seemed to be cluttered beyond reason. Once a case went cold, it was shoved in one of the dank folders with the pretence of never seeing the light of day again. The Yard simply didn't have the officers to spare to go through the cases and look back over them so Lestrade didn't really see the harm in letting Sherlock go over them. It would clear up some space, at least, and could even put some families worries and minds to rest. Not to mention it kept the detective out of other, more unsavoury activities.

* * *

><p>Seven hours later, Lestrade sat at his desk with a mountain of paperwork. The detective had just about cleared out their cold case files. There were less than twenty left on the database. If he hadn't had dragged Sherlock out and sent him home, Greg was sure that the man would have stayed all night. The detective whined and moped and tried every tactic on the face of the earth to get Lestrade to let him stay but nothing worked. He eventually turned to the greying inspector with sad eyes.<p>

'Don't make me go back. I can't. I can't be there right now.' He said with his voice cracking and half sobs escaping. It was a good performance and Greg didn't quite know if he was being serious or not but he wasn't taking the chance.

'You need to go back home now and get to sleep. Mrs Hudson will throw a fit at me if I don't make you go. She's a scary woman, that landlady of yours.' Lestrade replied, still using the firm voice which seemed, for the time being at least, to have some sort of effect on the detective. Sherlock watched him for a few moments then sighed and made his way out of the room, knowing that he would not sway the DI's decision. Greg watched him leave then turned his attention to the mountainous pile of paperwork. He groaned and picked up the first one. He wasn't going to be going home anytime soon, that was for sure.


	8. Chapter 8

John stepped off the plane and was immediately hit by the hot, stale air. He quickly made his way through to the army base to his area. Being the major meant that he had a large group under his command and he wanted to get to know each and every one of them. Knowing how their minds worked could possibly save them all at some point. And he decided they should know who to answer to. He was in command of a total of one hundred and twelve men but the squad he was the medic for was only twenty strong. There seemed to be a general air of doubt about the men (and women) as they found out their new major was in fact an old, injured soldier. The doctor grimaced, it was going to be hard earning their respect. They'd follow his orders to the 'T' but they wouldn't respect him. Not to begin with. John didn't know why, but he just got the feeling that this group of people didn't think he was up to it.

'We need strong leaders and experienced, well trained medics and what do they send us? This Blondie. Is this all Britain has to offer?' One young man asked. John noticed- with the small amount of deducting skills that he managed to learn from Sherlock- that he couldn't be more than twenty-seven and was keen to show his metal on the field. The doctor squared his shoulders and glared down the young man, who was actually about an inch taller than him.

'You need a medic, which is what I am. You also need a leader, which is what I am. I have no qualms with keeping you on night watch if you think I'm not up to your standards but this will be my fifth tour. Now you may be aching to prove your worth but let me tell you something, I am not about to let any of you get blown up because you want to prove that you are braver than the rest. I have spent many hours picking the pieces of dead soldiers of the battle field and sowing them back into a somewhat human shape to be shipped back to the grieving families and I do not want to have to do it again. So you best keep your unwarranted opinions about me and my worth to yourself because I can guarantee that my stomach and my substance are both stronger than yours. Are we clear?' He asked in a harsh, military tones that he had kept in check by using it on Sherlock when he was being particularly stupid. The young man paled slightly and seemed to shock to reply. Of course, John was the major now and he required and answer.

'I'm sorry? I must have gone deaf.' He snapped.

'Sorry sir. Yes sir. We are clear sir.' The boy replied, clearly his pride had taken a huge beating. John inwardly sighed. It was better to have his pride hurt than to have him sent home in a wooden box.

The doctor later learn that the man who had insulted him verbally was one private Carl Simmons, a rich kid from a privileged background who wanted to do his duty for his country. Or more likely, wanted to spend a few weeks on the battle field, save someone's life, earn a medal or five and go home to live the life of a war hero. John laughed bitterly. Yes, because that was how it worked.


	9. Chapter 9

John walked into the generals office. He didn't particularly know why he had been called in but he had and he was a soldier, he was made to follow orders. It just so happened that he had the power to give them as well. The man who sat behind the desk, looking very much like one of those generals in the old videos. The proud, greying man with tanned skin and eyes which seemed to be watching the world turn.

'Ah, John Watson, I had hoped to meet you.' He said with an old, worn smile. John nodded.

'May I ask why I've been called here, sir?' The doctor asked, somehow managing to stay polite.

'Of course, you have a busy life, I know. I just wondered if you would be wanting to borrow a laptop, we do have the internet over here. Most men choose to send their loved ones letters-the old fashioned way- but from what I understand, that detective you lived with seems to prefer the newer side of life.' The old man said, his face showing that he was being completely serene. John remained still for a few moments, taking in the utterly ridiculous excuse with his mask of extreme scepticism.

'You called me in to ask if I wanted to e-mail, sir?' The blond army medic asked. 'I don't even have a loved one. Come on, seriously sir, what do you want?' The old man smiled and gestured for the young woman who was standing against the back wall to leave. She did so, closing the door behind her and leaving the two men by themselves.

* * *

><p>Once he was sure they were alone, the general leant forward in his chair.<p>

'Ok, John, I got a memo saying to pull you in at exactly this time from someone on high.' He said. John raised an eyebrow.

'Really sir? And why were you told this?' He asked, wanting nothing more to get back to his squad-If only to get out of this mans presence.

'To introduce you to the newest member of your squad.' The general stated, gesturing to the now opened door. John's path was blocked by a tall figure. The doctor stared at the man, jaw practically hitting the floor. 'They wanted you to meet him before the rest of the squad did. Something about it making them more likely to accept him if he had your respect. It's strange, he doesn't seem to have a file. Or anything in fact. Just the order to serve under your command.' The words entered John's ears but his brain wasn't making any sense out of them. He was too busy trying to work out what he did wrong in his life to come to this.

'Captain Watson, this is Private Holmes.' The taller male stepped into the office with the hint of a smile ghosting his lips.

'Sherlock, what the hell are you doing here?' The doctor hissed. Behind him, the general realised what was happening.

'Of course! You're Sherlock Holmes! How is Mycroft? It's been such a long time since we last spoke. Right, that is all I wanted you for, Captain, you're dismissed.' The old man said with a smile as he caught himself going off on a tangent. John nodded politely then dragged his flatmate out of the room, down the corridor and into the restrooms, clearing everyone out and locking the door behind him.

* * *

><p>'What the hell are you doing here, Sherlock?' He yelled, the man didn't reply. 'Tell me now, that's an order soldier.' His army captain voice was now in full swing. The detective smiled.<p>

'I love it when you go army on me.' He chuckled deeply, trying to see how far he could wind his flatmate up. John growled and slammed the taller man into the wall.

'While you're here, you are under my command. You will tell me what I want to know and you will answer me with 'Sir'. Is that understood?' He growled.

'Sir, yes sir.' Sherlock replied. John nodded and backed off.

'Now what are you doing here?'


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock sighed and squirmed uncomfortably under his friends gaze.

'You left me.' He said numbly. 'I got home to find a letter. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't bare the thought of you being shot again or worse but I new that no matter what I did I wouldn't be able to change your mind, you stubborn git. So I called Mycroft and he made the necessary arrangements for me to come here and be part of your squad. If you won't accept me then I'll just be transferred. I'll still end up going to Afghanistan.' The detective's voice was low and rasping. John sighed and pulled his friend into a crushing hug, holding a grudge had never been his strong point.

'You are an idiot.' The doctor stated. 'You are a complete idiot, how did you possibly think that this would be a good idea? How am I meant to keep you alive? It will be hard enough to keep the rest of the squad from wringing your neck, never mind the Taliban.' He said in exasperation, the anger now gone from his voice. Sherlock chuckled, recalling how many times his flatmate had saved him from being beaten by a pulp because of something he said. He looked back to his friend to find the man was smiling as well. The smirk was wiped of his face as he stepped away.

'I wasn't joking about what I said. Here you're not my equal. Here you do what I say when I say it.' John warned. Sherlock nodded.

'Yes sir.' He chirped, not quite managing to wipe the smile from his face. Captain Watson chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully before unlocking the door. The people closest all turned away at the same time and John groaned. In hindsight, dragging a tall handsome man into a restroom, kicking everyone out then locking the door and spending ten minutes with the occasional banging on walls probably wasn't the best idea if he wanted people to believe him when he said he was straight. Sherlock sniggered but stopped immediately when his superior glared at him.

'Right then, I guess you'd better meet the rest of the squad then.' John decided. His flatmate didn't reply, there was no need to.

* * *

><p>The squad took to the new member quite well, mostly because the detective managed to keep talking to a minimum and somehow managed to stop himself from uttering even a single insult. Jenny, a twenty year old private who was on her first tour with the army, had flicked her dark hair seductively in Sherlock's direction but the lanky man, as per usual, didn't pay her any attention. John allowed himself to smirk for a second. He would set her straight now, the army wasn't a place to be flirting with your colleagues, but he knew that his flatmate would sort out that little problem quite capably by himself. The detective caught sight of this little expression and winked at the captain. In full view of the rest of the squad. John didn't return it or even make any movement to show he'd seen it. No one knew who Sherlock was or that they had shared a flat and that was the way that he wanted it to stay. It seemed that Jenny knew her efforts were wasted and she walked off, towards the only other girl in the team.<p>

'Sir, there's a letter for you.' A thirty year old by the name of Samson stated. John nodded and sent him away. The letter was of quality paper and had a small insignia on the corner. The insignia that the elder Holmes brother used. The blond sighed and opened it.

_By now, you will know of my involvement the new member of your squadron. I had tried to talk him out of it but, as he is known to do, he wouldn't have any of it. I hope you realise the situation that you have put him in. If you hadn't gone over there then we wouldn't be in this situation now, just as if you were to come home now then he would too. Just something to think about._

_Try to be careful. It is hard to arrange surveillance or any kind of protection out in Afghanistan so the chances are that there won't be any. That doesn't mean that people won't know who you are. He doesn't know how to survive in a war, as you've seen by the way he acts on the street. Please protect him._

_Mycroft_


	11. Chapter 11

John sighed and glared at Sherlock. _Damn that idiot for coming here._ He thought bitterly.

'Private Holmes, here, now.' He yelled. The detective somehow managed not to raise an eyebrow as he swaggered over.

'Stop that.' John stated.

'Stop what, sir?' Sherlock chirped back. The captain groaned and handed him the note.

'You know what. Carry on and I will make you go out and run the assault course. Twice.' The blond growled. The detective nodded with a mumble of 'Yes sir' as he scowled and muttered something about his 'pompous fat interfering brother'.

John sent him back and waited a few moments before calling the entire squad together. Private Simmons stood as far away from him as possible while Holmes stood as close as he could, mostly to be a git. John gritted his teeth but didn't rise to the challenge that he flatmate had set.

'Right, we've been given a position to hold north, civilian area. We are to keep the peace with the locals and report back on any enemy activity. Pack your bags, we leave tomorrow at first light.' The captain barked. A spark seemed to flicker through the small crowd as the suddenly apprehensive glances caught sight of each other. John turned and walked out of the small room. He hadn't realised before, but he really did have a very young crew. Apart from him and Sherlock, the soldiers couldn't be more than about twenty seven, meaning and they'd probably be on their first or second tour. John couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the group, but at least they weren't being thrown straight onto the frontline.

* * *

><p>After giving the orders, John went back to his office and check through the files. His twenty-now twenty one-men each had a file on past experience. The captain flicked through the files.<p>

**Andrews, Ronan**

**Bradley, Ciaran**

**Brown, Harry**

**Diver, Sam**

**Dalison, Alistair**

**Evans, Kyle**

**Fletcher, Aaron**

**Hadfield, Mathew**

**Harriet, Martha**

**Hartshorne, Martin**

**Holmes, Sherlock**

**Latham, Steven**

**Me, Jake**

**Martins, Charlie**

**McMillan, Jennifer **

**Nye, Jack**

**Simmons, Carl**

**Smith, Johnson**

**Stanley, Nicolas**

**Stevenson, Liam**

**Webster, Mark**

How many of these people were going to make it back home in one piece? A simple keep-the-peace mission could all to quickly become a full on fight. How many of these were capable of standing their ground when it came to the battle? John didn't know the answer and he couldn't turn off the worry.

'You need to clear your head, sir.' Deep tones cooed softly behind him. John turned to face the taller male.

'Please go back home. I think I've gone grey worrying about you being here. You're not even a trained soldier.' He pleaded. Sherlock looked at him blankly, a surprisingly suited expression when the man was clad in camouflage trousers and a camouflage jacket which was zipped right up to his chin.

'You underestimate me.' He stated, almost sounding hurt. 'And I am not allowing you to go to that death trap without me. If you died and I hadn't seen you that day, or even that week, I wouldn't be able to function. You have broken me, John Watson. I never had a friend before and now I can't help but protect you.' The replied before walking out of the office like he had never been there in the first place. John stared at the door which the detective had passed through, seemingly unable to do anything else. _When did everything get so complicated? _He wondered silently, as he closed and locked the filing cabinet.


	12. Chapter 12

About an hour later, John went round his squad to make sure everything was set. The two women were quietly chatting amongst themselves, stealing glances at both John and Sherlock whenever they thought neither was looking. The captain continued until he saw one man standing by himself.

'Private Latham.' He called, the man whipped his head round and stood to attention immediately. 'At ease,' The captain waved away, forgetting that he was in the army for a moment, 'Why aren't you with the others?' He asked, not unkindly. The man shrugged his bulky shoulders.

'Does there have to be a reason, sir?' He replied. John's lips quirked into a small smile and then reigned back to a look of serene indifference.

'No. But most would take this time to get to know the squad. Judging by the glance you gave Private Webster and his crew, or whatever they call themselves, so you do know some off the rest. If that's the case then why are you with him, you're clearly not comfortable being by yourself.' John said, he caught sight of Sherlock then immediately wished he hadn't. The man had a smile so impossibly smug plastered to his face that it rivalled that of the Cheshire cat. So John had learned some tricks while living with him, so what? His mind was pulled back on task as he realised the Private hadn't replied yet.

'It's nothing, sir. I should go and check my pack's in order.' The soldier said, clearly asking for a reason to be dismissed. The captain gave him a look which said he would be looking but nodded anyway and allowed him to leave.

* * *

><p>As soon as the man was gone, Mr Smug himself slunk over. John gritted his teeth and turned away.<p>

'Sir?' Sherlock asked. John pretended not to hear him. 'Sir?' The man asked again, a little louder. Captain Watson waited until they reached an area which was deserted of all other life before finally turning to his flatmate.

'What do you what, soldier?' He snapped.

'I just wanted to tell you that that was brilliant.' He sniggered. John saw red as his will finally snapped.

'Out.' He barked. 'Get outside.' Sherlock looked shocked but he did as asked. The captain looked up to see that his little out burst had earned him a small audience in the form of the two women. He sighed, realising how not in his favour this looked. He couldn't tell them that the insufferable git was his flatmate, that just wasn't done. But, since he didn't know Private Holmes, he didn't know that the man was taking the piss out of him. And that meant that there was no reason for his sudden outburst. The doctor sighed in annoyance and stormed out, following his flatmate into the cool evening air.

* * *

><p>When he got outside, he was greeted to the detective saluting him in the most sarcastic way he possibly could. John stepped forward so they were face to face and stared him down.<p>

'Sherlock Holmes, you will stop this right now.' He demanded. 'If you think that acting like a complete prat is going to get me to come home then you are gravely mistaken and if you carry on like this then you are going to get someone killed.' Sherlock looked taken back.

'I don't understand, John, I haven't done anything wrong.' He replied, keeping his voice in perfect check. John growled, the man had forgotten that he knew when the git was lying.

'You are purposely distracting me, and everyone else. Don't pretend I care about who people spend their time with, but you are also distracting pretty much every soldier in my squad. Now, I know some of that's not your fault but if I ever catch you purposely distracting or messing with anyone here I will personally kick your sorry ass back to England myself, got that soldier?' Captain Watson thought he saw a flash of something like hurt behind the taller males eyes but he decided he was mistaken, this was Sherlock the self-proclaimed sociopath. 'I didn't hear an answer.' He snapped.

'Sir, yes sir.' The detective mumbled. John nodded once.

'Good, now lets get back inside. I bet you haven't even bothered packing yet.' The blond doctor said in a lighter tone, already feeling guilty for snapping at his friend.

'I never unpacked.' The detective murmured, walking back inside without so much as glancing at him once.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock remained quiet and out of sight for the rest of the night, John told himself that the man had seen some sense and decided to get a few hours sleep but even he knew that was a complete lie. The detective was avoiding him. The captain looked back on the look that Sherlock had given him when he had snapped. Now he thought about it, that look wasn't so much hurt as… Something clicked in his mind and before he knew it, John was making his way through the corridors back to the generals office.

'Permission to enter.' He called out.

'Permission granted.' Came the muffled reply. John stepped inside, suddenly finding himself standing straighter. 'What can I do you for, Captain?' The general asked, once again sat behind the large desk.

'I was wondering if it would be possible for me to send a letter or e-mail, sir. It's urgent.' The doctor requested. His superior smiled boldly.

'Of course, come, use my computer.' He cried. 'Who's this letter to then? Not some girl you left back home, is it?' John shook his head.

'It's-eh-it's Mycroft Holmes. I have something important to ask him about.' He replied a little sheepishly. At this, the general got the message and quickly excused himself, for an entirely different reason, of course. After a moment, the doctor sat down and began typing.

_Dear Mycroft,_

_Don't really have much time so I'll make this quick. What the hell happened to Sherlock? I don't know whether it was when he was a child or a teenager or maybe even older but something happened. In all the time I've known him, he's never once been truly scared yet when I snapped at him he shrunk back and is now avoiding me. I'm not an expert but I know something's wrong here. I know you will find a way to contact me so I'll expect a reply in the next week._

_And yes, I know you check my emails._

_John_

John then sent the email to himself and deleted it from the generals computer. When Sherlock told him that his brother monitored their emails and internet, the doctor had been furious but he was now glad for it. It gave him a means of contacting the elusive man. _You're just over reacting. _A voice said. _You're his best friend and you yelled and threatened him, of course he's going to be upset but he was warned. _The soldier tried to be contented with that but the niggling suspicion and guilt refused to be stamped down. The general entered the room once again and John nodded his thanks. The older man smiled in return.

'Permission to be dismissed, sir?' The captain asked, already moving back round the table so he was the right side.

'Permission granted. Good luck for tomorrow, Captain.' The gruff voice replied. As he left, John silently wondered why the man was so nice to him, according to most sources he was a rather ruthless person. Well, he was a general after all and one didn't get to that position in the army by being nice.


	14. Chapter 14

Two hours til the squad deployed and the captain still hadn't found Sherlock. It was as if the man had disappeared, a wisp of smoke. As he had said, the man's bag was packed and hadn't even been opened. John guessed that Mycroft had had it packed since it was so neat that he doubted his friend had so much as touched it's contents. He walked up to a small group of soldiers who stood to attention the moment they saw him approach.

'At ease. Now have any of you seen Private Holmes?' He asked. The five men looked at each other then shook their heads. John raised an eyebrow. 'Whatever he has threatened to do to you for telling me is nothing compared with what I _will_ do if you don't.' He warned, keeping his voice completely level. A couple of the soldier paled and he turned his attention on the one most likely to cave.

'Private Bradley, you appear to know something.' He stated.

'He's on the roof, sir.' The man blurted out. The rest of the group glared at him and he shirked back. John nodded and walked down the corridor at a normal pace up to the point when he was out of sight. Then he sprinted to the steps and took then three at a time up to the roof.

Sherlock was sat with his feet dangling over the edge of the roof. John felt his heart leap as the man looked down. He ran up to the man and dragged him back. Private Holmes lashed out and got a lucky punch to John's bad shoulder. The doctor hissed and grabbed his flatmate by the scruff.

'-' A childish voice blurted out. The detective had his hands up shielding his face, still blubbering incessantly. John dropped him immediately and pulled him close.

'Oh Sherlock.' He whispered. 'It's me, it's John. You're safe… Safe-ish.' The man seemed to come back to himself and he pulled away from the doctor. He fixed emotionless expression back on to his face then turned to his flatmate but as soon as he saw the guilt in the doctors eyes, the mask shattered again.

'Well done, you've found out. Great, I congratulate you on your newfound powers of deduction.' He snarled. The blond doctor back up.

'Sherlock, calm down.' He half pleaded. The detective closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. After a moment, Sherlock opened his eyes again and faced John.

'It appears I overreacted slightly.' He said numbly.

'I think we best get back down before people start to worry, only an hour until we leave. Come on, soldier, down you go.' John said calmly. His flatmate nodded at him with what looked like gratitude then opened the door and went down the steps.

Now his flatmate was no longer looking at him, the doctor let the anger briefly show on his face. Mycroft was going to have a lot of explaining to do. What sort of brother allows something like that to happen to their younger sibling, the one they're supposed to protect? And then he sends the man to the one place where flashbacks are most likely to occur. Nothing says high stress, strong fear and command like a war zone. John let his eyes wander across the rooftop and suddenly noticed a CCTV camera trained on him. He glared at it then turned and followed Sherlock back down to the rest of his squad. He had hoped to get some sleep before they left but he had known from the start that that wasn't going to happen. The doctor sighed and decided to make one last round of the squad before they left.


	15. chapter 15

The squad loaded up the truck and each leapt inside. Private Bradley seemed to be on the receiving end of the silent treatment by the rest of the squad and Sherlock sat hunched in a corner, as far away from everyone else as possible. Other than that, the group seemed to be in relatively high spirits. Private McMillan was driving the army truck, much to the mock horror of the rest of the crew. John sat up front with her, holding the map haphazardly and wondering how, as captain, he managed to draw the short straw.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, the truck pulled up by an old building which looked like a warehouse. It was just on the edge of a town that was half covered in dust. The people had scampered inside as soon as they'd seen the truck approach. John looked towards the scruffy buildings and held back a sigh. It was going to be hard to convince them they were there to help. And he knew from experience that it was hard enough fighting the battle itself, they didn't need the locals trying to stab them when their backs were turned as well. The captain barked orders to get the warehouse sorted. Each man had been allocated a job on the way out so, though some grumbled slightly, the place was quickly made fit for habitation. Sherlock hadn't so much as looked his way since their quick talk on the roof but he did seem to be taking things seriously. Which was more than could be said for some.<p>

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' Captain Watson roared at two of the younger soldiers. The men turned to him instantly, having not noticed his presence before.

'We were just messing around, sir.' Private Smith said with the slight undertones of a cocky teenager. The doctor gave him a stern look.

'You're just messing around with fully loaded fire arms. If you wanted to play laser quest with your mates then you should have stayed at home. This is a battle field, not only could you break the weapons, which could result in someone from the squad dying, but you could accidentally fire one, which could also end up in serious injury or death. No I didn't think that I would have to tell a grown man in the _army_ that guns aren't toys but it seems I was mistaken.' John hissed. The young man looked stricken and tried to hold his composure. 'If I ever catch you, or anyone else messing round with anything, I'm putting them on guard duty for the next week.' If his little speech hadn't got the squads attention, his threat certainly did the trick.

'But you can't do that sir-' Another soldier began, John turned to him.

'Really? As far as I'm aware, I am the Captain here. I seem to be the one in charge. Is there anyone with more authority? No? Then I guess I _am_ in charge, so guess what? I can.' No one else even tried to argue with him this time, which was probably for the better seen as John didn't think he had it in him to be cruel for more than twenty minutes at a time before he started apologising for his actions.

* * *

><p>After the doctors rant, the squad had gotten the rest of work done, turning the warehouse into an army base is not the easiest of tasks. John called his troops together.<p>

'Right then, now that everything's set, we're going into the village. Andrews, Bradley, Brown and Diver, you're all staying here. Guard the base, watch the village from here. Get one of the drones in the sky to keep a look out and tell us if anything happens. As for the rest. We go in group of three. Now I hope I don't have to list rules like you are all in primary school. Don't get separated, stay together, don't leave anyone behind. For Gods sake, don't take unnecessary risks, I'm looking at you Holmes. Right. I'll take Simmons and Holmes, you can decide how the rest of you split.' John said clearly. It took less than thirty seconds for the group to spilt up into six groups of three.

'This mission is just scouting out the area. Talk to the locals, see what they know. Be nice and they'll talk much easier but treat everyone as an enemy, you don't know what they have in their houses or even under their shirts. Right then. Go.'

* * *

><p>AN- I know this is only one chapter but I wanted to update. I don't know when I will next be able to update again but here you go anyway.<p>

B  
>x<p> 


	16. Chapter 16

**AN-** Hey guys! I think I've sorted everything out now. Wow, this 'short' break has been the longest running shit storm I think I've ever had to face. At least it's over now. I hope.

Anyway, enough from me.

Enjoy  
>x<p>

* * *

><p>As expected, the village seemed barren. All the villagers had hidden themselves away in their makeshift houses. The groups and split up and each gone down a different route through the area, making sure that they stayed with the other two in their group at all times. The dust kicked up in a mini sandstorm whenever anyone took a step and even though it was now early evening, the sun was still far hotter than anything you could hope to experience in England. John looked round the corner then beckoned the other two men to follow him. The two men kept scowling at each other and he rolled his eyes, he'd give them ten minutes to sort out their differences and get to work properly and if they couldn't sort it out by then… Well, there would be hell to pay.<p>

* * *

><p>The three men rounded the corner and walked down the abandoned street at a moderate walking pace, one which allowed them to both stop and take cover, or make a run for it, easier. A shriek went up from behind them, where they had come from. Captain Watson whipped round, soon followed by Holmes. Simmons seemed to have forgotten himself as he stood frozen for a moment but a harshly whispered order soon got him back where he should be. A young woman appeared clutching a three year old. The kid's head lolled back as she ran to John and shoved the girl into his hands, she'd clearly seen the cross on his arm signalling he was a medic.<p>

'Save her.' The woman screeched. John looked at the child's face, even from here something was wrong.

'Holmes, get my med kit out.' He barked. Sherlock nodded. Of course John would expect him to help, he knew exactly how his flatmate packed things. The doctor laid his patient on the ground.

'Holmes, ask her what happened.'

'I don't know every language on the face of the earth, John.' The detective snapped. The captain glared at him

'Don't even start, Sherlock. I know you know this one now stop being a git and do as I say. And it's Captain to you.' John growled back. Sherlock rolled his eyes but did as asked while John started doing the preliminary checks.

'She says she only left the kid for five minutes. She thinks she swallowed something. Came back in and the kid was choking, didn't know what to do. So she ran out here because she saw us lot walking down.' He said with a 'I'm-not-being-used-to-my-full-potential-here' sigh. John nodded and fished a stone out of the young girls throat before starting rescue breaths.

'A stone?' Simmons asked, until now he'd been standing a little way away, looking slightly pale, but it seemed he had gotten his voice back now there was someone he could insult. 'How thick are these people.' Now doing compressions one handed, the doctor glared at him but before he could say anything, his flatmate spoke.

'You fell down the stairs and fractured your skull when you were around five, judging by where it was, you probably believed you could fly or something. You broke your nose when you were seven, probably from climbing a tree that clearly couldn't take your weight. Throughout you life you've done various stupid things which have ended up in someone getting hurt, so don't even think about insulting anyone.' Simmons blinked in shock and John was thankful he was facing away at this point because he knew he wouldn't have been able to hide the smirk. The kid below him coughed and spluttered then gasped for breath. John sighed with relief and picked the child up so that she could see her mother and not panic.

'Holmes, tell this woman that we need to get the kid to a hospital to check her over.' This time, Sherlock didn't even pull a face as he translated. The woman nodded and ran back into the house only to appear a few moments later holding a rag of some kind. She wrapped the girl up in it then picked the child up again and nodded to John.

* * *

><p>The hospital was a bit of a mess and it was clearly understaffed but it was all there was. John went up to one of the doctors and explained the situation. The man was happy to help, as long as John stayed with the child until a doctor came to relieve him off them as they hadn't physically got the staff to look after her at the moment. Captain Watson nodded and beckoned the woman to bring her child to the bed. Holmes and Simmons followed.<p>

'We're just going to run some tests, to make sure everything is ok. I think she'll have to stay in over night, just to be on the safe side.' He said, Sherlock translated and the woman was all to happy to stay.

'Simmons, radio back to base before they send a search party out.'


	17. Chapter 17

About four hours later, the captain, Holmes and Simmons managed to get back to the warehouse. The child was fine, a few cracked ribs, and two broken, which was to be expected. The good thing was that she was alive and relatively ok. As the doctor had suspected, the hospital wanted to keep them in for the night for observation. The rest of the team seemed to be mildly pissed off with them but clearly weren't going to say anything. Well John was the Captain, the leader, they wouldn't want to get him annoyed with them. The blond doctor sighed and rolled his eyes.

'I should have contacted as soon as we knew. I know. If you're annoyed or angry with me for something that actually counts then I need to know you'll confront me about it.' John pointed at Sherlock behind him. 'I know this prick will confront me about anything that I do, or don't as the case may be, but I don't think the same applies for the rest of you.' The squad seemed to be genuinely taken back by their captain's words. Sherlock chuckled.

'You really haven't got a clue, have you? John and I were flatmates. I banking on the fact that we still will be when I convince him to stop being such an imbecile and come back home again.' The general shout of 'What!' stopped him from continuing for a moment. The detective scowled while he waited for the soldiers to shut up then he continued.

'I think you'll find there is nothing anywhere which says anything about flatmates not being allowed to be in active service together. And no, we never have been _going out _and we aren't now. Just to save everyone that conversation before it starts.' Sherlock snapped. He then realised that among the shocked faces, one was scowling. John had pinned his glare on him.

'Uh… Not good?' He asked, slightly meeker. John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and finger.

'No, it's fine. I'm fine.' He replied in a voice which clear showed he wasn't. Sherlock inwardly sighed, he thought it had been the right think to do. It seems that, where John was concerned, he was increasingly making the wrong decisions. And that was a worrying thought.

* * *

><p>Now the metaphorical cat was out of the bag, the squad seemed somewhat different. Whenever the captain went to talk to Sherlock, there was a general sea of unrest among the rest of the group. Everyone stayed out of Sherlock's way, as they all knew he was easily annoyed, for fear that he'd run and tell the leader. John Watson had noticed this and hoped that it would eventually die down. After three days, his maximum waiting time, it didn't.<p>

'Right, I want all of you here now.' He barked. The squad lined up in front of him within minutes. 'I have had enough of this.' He hissed. 'How can we work as a team when everyone won't trust everyone else?' One of the girls stepped forward and he allowed her to speak.

'How are we expected to trust you, sir? I'm sure there's a rule against family being in the same squad.' She questioned. John sighed.

'We are not family. I would absolutely love it if Private Holmes went home. But I can't force him to, not without reason.' He replied. 'The fact is we have no idea what is going to happen. What seems like a simple scout mission could turn into a full out battle and I need to know that we trust each other.' He stopped one of the soldiers from interrupting him. 'So, we're going to do some team building. You can stop groaning, we're all going to suffer this and then we can put these problems behind us.' Sherlock raised and eyebrow and turned tail.

'Sherlock Holmes you get back here now and do this with the rest of us.' The Captain barked. The man in question sighed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get out of this.


	18. Chapter 18

Sherlock hated being part of a team. Teams only made for too much stupid, rather like being out numbered. He hated team building more than he hated teams. Sadly, his flatmate wasn't going to let him worm out of this so he was just going to have to grin and bear the complete stupidity of this squad. The things he did for John. Speaking of John, the man had made everyone sit in a circle, much to their distaste, and was now getting them to all answer questions. He would ask a question, answer it himself, then get everyone in the circle to answer the question themselves. During this time, there was no titles or last names. Everyone was known by their first name, or a nickname if they chose to have one. At first they didn't like the idea but after about ten minutes most people were really getting into it.

'Ok, next one, when did you first realise you wanted to be in the army? I saw all the mayhem while I was in med school and I decided it was were I wanted to be. Ronan, your turn.' John said, projecting the circles attention on to the man to his left. Ronan rubbed his chin as he thought.

'I think it was when I was six, I watched a programme on war and I thought it looked cool, as you do at that age. When I grew up I didn't think it was cool anymore but I still wanted to do it.' He answered, turning to the next person. 'Ali, you're up.' Alistair looked up as he tried to remember.

'You know, I don't think I can actually remember. It was just something I always wanted to do.' He hummed simply. 'Ok Sam, you're next.' Sam smiled ruefully.

'God, this is going to sound so bad. Ok, when I was little my dad forced me to promise I would join the army. He then left my mum and we never saw him again. I was so angry that I decided to do what he told me not to. Probably the best decision of my life, even if it was for the wrong reason.' Everyone nodded solemnly and Sam smiled as if trying to show it was no big deal, turning to the next person. 'Jenny, you're up to bat. That's a baseball term, meaning it's your turn, I know you woman aren't good with sports.' He received a punch to the shoulder, but the woman was smiling, one of the early questions had been on sport and Jennifer had somehow confused cricket, baseball and rounders, it had taken five minutes to explain each to her.

'Shut up.' She snapped jokily. 'Uh… well I just woke up one day and asked myself what did I want to do with my life. I thought about working in an office but I can't sit still at the best of times. After a while, I thought about the army. New skills, new places. Seemed perfect. And here I am.' She paused for a moment before continuing. 'Ok Sherlock, the circle is yours.' The detective clenched his jaw and tried to picture himself somewhere else.

'John said he was leaving and I couldn't bare the thought of him dying, he gets kidnapped on a weekly basis-'

'I did not!'

'Shush, no interrupting.' Ronan hissed, jabbing the doctor in the ribs. John glared at him but remained quiet.

'As I was saying, John kept getting kidnapped and I didn't think he'd last long so I followed him here to make sure he came home in one piece.' The detective finished, casting a sarcastic smile towards the captain. There was a chuckle as the squad tried to picture their leader getting kidnapped. 'Right then, Harry I believe you are next.'

* * *

><p>'Circle time' carried on for about thirty more minutes before John finally called time. The squad seemed to have become a lot more relaxed and generally happy with everyone else in the team now that the people all knew a little more about each other. Sherlock waited until John was alone before he walked up to his flatmate.<p>

'I didn't actually believe that would work.' He stated. John smirked.

'I know, I could see the astonishment on your face. I'm guessing that's why you decided to say about the kidnapping, which did not happen on a weekly basis, to somehow get back at me for having a good idea.' He replied. Sherlock shrugged.

'I had to get something out of this, you know how much I hate teams.' John laughed.

'Go home then.' Was his answer. The detective raised an eyebrow and the doctor turned his palms up with a shrug. 'It was worth a shot.'


	19. Chapter 19

Chaos. Pure, unruly chaos. John frantically looked round the dust and smoke filled base, trying to find anyone nearby. The smoke forced him to the ground. His hands where cut by something and he felt it to find someone had made a makeshift arrow out of stones on the floor. Something for him to follow. He didn't question how these pebbles got were they where, as whoever put them there could have just as easily taken him out themselves, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. In a daze, he crawled, following the stones, to where he was forcibly pulled out of the warehouse by many pairs of hands.

* * *

><p>'What happened?' He asked, loud enough to be heard but not too loud as to make the squad think he was happening. His eyes were still ringing from the last blast and he wasn't entirely sure they were out of the worst of it yet. The sturdy hands shook him and he brushed them off, rubbing the debris from his eyes as he stood up.<p>

'What happened?' He repeated, making out the many blurry shapes. The ringing faded to a quiet, but still constant, screech in his ears. He started to make out the duller tones, someone was speaking to him.

'-ou noere e on ere aur ne.' The sound was jumbled and John had to take a steadying breath. Once he had gotten a hold of his nerve, he raised a hand to stop the person talking.

'It's no use, I can't hear you. Just get us out of here. Don't go back in, it's not safe.' He said, hoping that they understood him. He could only hear the voice in his head, after all, he had no idea if it was even legible to the outside world. The world kept fading as he fought to keep consciousness. His tongue was becoming heavier in his mouth and his eyelids closed of their own accord, no matter how hard he fought to keep them open. The hands grabbed him as his body caved, his mind whirred though his transport, (no, not transport, body why did I call it transport?) was no longer under his control. Every so often, his eyes worked again and he caught a gazed glimpse of the group moving, though he couldn't feel the movement himself.

* * *

><p>He was dragged through the blurry shapes, some of which he thought he recognised but most he couldn't be sure of, until they reached a place where the doctor could no longer smell smoke. His eyesight was coming back to him slowly and his hearing was returning in his right ear but his left still only heard ringing. Panting heavily, he turned to the still slightly fuzzy shapes of the people that had dragged him out, they were part of the squad but he couldn't see their faces clearly enough to know who. The large amount of them was a relief, he had expected many casualties from a blast of that size. He didn't know how long it had been since the blast but he was determined to make sure everyone was safe, now that he had lucid thoughts and could think about that anyway.<p>

'Ok. Now tell me again. Slowly, I still can't hear well.' He ordered. One soldier stepped in front of him slowly, showing he was the one speaking.

'It came out of nowhere. They through smoke bombs in then blew up the supporting beams. You seem to be the most injured out of the lot of us. It's like they knew exactly where we where and wanted it to be a warning.' The male voice replied. John nodded and looked around him. Something was niggling at him, something important, but he couldn't quite place his concern.

'There's something else you should know.' The male soldier stated, a worried tone in his voice. John turned his gaze back on this man. 'There's someone missing. Private Holmes, we searched for him, Sir, he ran into the building. We looked for him but we couldn't find him.' John's eyes flickered around. That was what he was missing. He couldn't see Sherlock.

'I ordered nobody to go back inside.' The Captain stated accusingly. The soldier shuffled restlessly.

'He went in after you.'


	20. Chapter 20

'_He went in after you.' _

_Shit. No. He wouldn't. He would. He can't have. He did. Then where is he now? _John's head seemed to have a thousand voices, each screaming to be heard. The soldier's blood had long since ran cold, it was what the war did to people, but now it had become ice in his veins. Sherlock had gone back in that damnable warehouse after him. It was he would had put those stones there. But why would he do that? John knew from past experience that the detective could lift him up, albeit with some difficulty. There was an awful feeling growing in the pit of John's stomach. Sherlock would have carried him out, there was no question about that, so something stopped him.

'So he went in… and at what point did you go in after him?' The doctor asked, keeping his voice completely level. The private shuffled again.

'When the smoke had died down again. Most of us carried you down and Jenny wrapped your hands up-' John looked down to realise that his hands had actually been bandaged, he silently wondered how he could have missed that. '-but a few went back in to search for Private Holmes. We couldn't have just left him if he was in there, Sir, could we?' John nodded, there was no point getting angry at this stage.

'Did you check everywhere?' He questioned. His squad nodded.

'Everywhere, Sir. He wasn't there. There wasn't even a scrap of clothing of his or anything.' John's mind suddenly clicked as to who was speaking to him. Private Simmons. His sight had pretty much returned to him now and he could hear reasonably well, though he was starting to wonder what had happened to his left ear as no sound was coming through it as far as he could tell.

'So you're telling me that Sherlock has been taken, most likely by whoever planted those bombs. They didn't want anyone to be killed because so some unknown reason but that means that there is a higher agenda for this whole mess we find ourselves in. Now I want to get Sherlock back but there's no point in looking for him. They'll be long gone by now and well hidden.' John turned himself to face the direction which they had come, the dirt filled with the tracks of footprints and scrap marks from where he had been half dragged. 'Something tells me we won't have to wait long though. We'll find out what their plan is soon enough.'

Two days later. Nothing had been heard as of yet, John hadn't expected to. It was still early and whoever took Sherlock would still be trying to get whatever they wanted out of him. The doctor doubted he would actually tell them and if he gave up answers, they would be carefully fabricated schemes to send them on wild goose chases which would ultimately lead to their demise. He'd probably already begun to set them on each other, or at least sew the seeds of doubt in their minds about each other. It was what the man did, and it took something stronger than steel to resist this subtle power he had.

As for the rest of the squad, John had seen to it that they had got word back to HQ of what had happened. He was sure that even if this whole thing turned out for the better and they got Sherlock back unharmed, beat the bad guys and everyone lived happily ever after, there was still going to be hell to pay when the British Government caught up with him. The only reason he was still alive right now was probably that he was the person most likely to get Sherlock back in one piece. Once he'd fulfilled his usefulness, he was as good as dead. John dragged his mind back onto the task in hand, it was a much safer line of thought. They currently had next to no supplies, nowhere which could be called a proper base and as of that morning, they had realised that they had left items which if terrorists got a hold of would spell disaster for the english army.

'We need to get back to the warehouse.' The captain stated. Normally, he would have just got everyone up and started marching but he didn't know exactly where they where and so someone else would have to lead them back. Private Simmons was unanimously voted as 'pack leader' for the trip and the squad began the journey back to their old base, hoping that no one had entered since they were last there.


	21. Chapter 21

The remnants of the base loomed above the squad. John stared for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to get inside, to say it wasn't structurally sound was the understatement of the century.

'Right, we go in groups of three. Don't touch anything unless you know it won't send what's left of the building crashing done on top of us.' He ordered. This time, he went with the two women. They decided to enter by the hole where they had exited at the time of the explosion. While the rest of the group looked for the equipment, they were looking for anything which could be used to show where Sherlock went.

The warehouse creaked and groaned with a slight breeze, keeping the group on edge, constantly looking up to see if the ceiling was about to fall in. After five minutes of searching around where John had fallen, looking at the way the stones had been set and where they could have come from, Jenny scampered across the ground, looking at the large doors with an odd expression.

'Captain.' She called quietly. John appeared beside her moments later. The female private point to the door.

'Everywhere else has got some damage but the door is completely fine.' She said. The doctor nodded and walked over to the doorframes.

'These were open when the explosion happened.' He stated, remembering that the lights had gone out and they hadn't got round to fixing them yet. He then realised that if they were still open when he got out, he would have been able to see enough to get out by himself. 'I'm guessing that once Private Holmes was taken, they closed the doors.' He said, running his fingers over the handle. His first instinct was to open it but something just didn't feel right. The captain looked up and around the doors.

'Shit.' He cursed. 'Get everyone out. Now. Go!' He yelled, switching the radio on and giving the order again before running to the exit himself. There was a shrill beeping sound which echoed off the jagged edges of the ruins.

John reached the entrance the squad had used to see that the two he went in with were both out along with nine others they had managed to find. The captain peered back into the warehouse, even with the dust and smoke settled, he found he couldn't see more than a metre and a half into the ruins. Picking up his radio, he relayed his orders again and felt the people behind him breath a sigh of relief as they saw movement. John himself wasn't about to let himself relax until he knew they were out. The shrill beeping was slowly becoming higher in pitch as it quickened. The remaining groups appeared, carrying large boxes between them and all but leapt out of the warehouse, sending the large metal boxes cascading in front of them. The shrill beeping stopped as soon as the last person stepped out. John's brow furrowed as he tried to work out what the hell was going on. The captain gestured for everyone else to stay back then he cautiously stepped back into the warehouse. As soon as his foot touched the floor, the beeping started up again. He stepped back out again and turned to his squad.

'Round the exit there's a mountain of wiring with what looks like a load of charges liked up to it. Not only that but the wires went up to the roof and God knows where else. Now this beeping might be part of that bomb or it could just be a ruse to scare us but I'm not going to take that chance. We've got what we came for and now we're going to get the hell out of here. Any questions?' He was met with silence. John nodded to himself and walked to the metal boxes. He inspected the outside carefully before unclipping the latch and lifting the lid.


	22. Chapter 22

'Shit.'

'What?'

'It's not there.'

'What do you mean it's not there?' John turned to the squad, moving out of the way so they could see in. The box was empty but for a small envelope. There was an eerie silence as the seriousness of the situation set in. The equipment included a positioning device which could be used to locate every other squadron within a thirty mile radius. There would be no such thing as a stealth mission because the opposition would know where each and every group of the British army where. Each squad had such equipment to allow long distance communication, not for general things but for urgent problems or emergencies. This meant that if the enemy got a hold of it, they could draw groups into a trap and any hostage situation was never a good thing. The doctor snatched the letter from the box and torn it open.

**Sherlock Holmes is being held in the tower at the west side of the village you are based in.**

**The equipment found in this box is being held in the tower at the east side of the village. When one is entered, the other will be blown up. At 6pm on the day the pressure pads in the warehouse are activated, both buildings if not already gone will blow up.**

John read the note out loud and looked around the team.

'Well that's stupid. We should go for Holmes, then neither side will have the equipment.' Private Brown piqued up. John rolled his eyes.

'And how will we know that the equipment is actually in there without going there ourselves? Are you just going to accept their word as the truth? Is that a good idea?' He snapped before pinching the bridge of his nose. The doctor looked round as if doing so would give him the answer.

'Ok. Ok. They know Sherlock by his first name and I doubt the man himself would tell them.' John muttered. Private Simmons narrowed his eyes.

'So who is this _Sherlock_ then? We know you were his flatmate and his brother is someone powerful. What are we up against? I think you should tell us exactly who the man is before we go putting our own lives on the line to save his sorry ass.' He asked. The captain gave him a harsh glance.

'I never said we were going after Sherlock.' He stated. The rest of the squad gasped and he sighed. 'Look, this equipment is far too important. If it's gone, we need to get it back. I don't believe for one moment that they are just going to give it to us but neither are they going to believe that we are going to go after it and not Sherlock. If they found Sherlock, they've probably done their homework and that means that they know I'm the captain of this squadron. There is no was that they are going to believe that I will let us go anywhere but towards my ex-flatmate. For all we know, he's already dead. God knows how I've managed to be around him so long without killing the bastard myself.' The squad couldn't quite believe what they were hearing.

'You are cold, Captain. Stone cold.' Private Harriet stated, shaking her head in disgust.

Despite trying their utmost to get John to change his mind, the squad found themselves making plans to go to the equipment. The captain kept a close eye on everyone, he said it was to check that there wasn't any holes in their preparations, though they all knew that he was actually checking that they didn't make any plans to try and get Sherlock as well, which could have risked the retrieval of the equipment. When all the preparations had been made, John nodded and ushered everyone out of the room

'Right. I need to make a phone call.' He stated.


	23. Chapter 23

The east tower was large and foreboding, a guarding shadow. The outskirts of the village had towers, none of which were now in use, as it used to be one held by al-Qaeda though they were long driven out.

'We still have enough time, Sir, we could still get Holmes instead. Forget the equipment, we'll just alert base that it's gone.' Private Evans pleaded. John smiled, Evans was one of a high moral compass but he also felt obliged to follow orders. It made an odd mix of a man but a very nice person.

'No. We go ahead as planned, now get into position. And don't even think about sneaking off any of you, I will know and I swear I'll make the remainder of your days hell. In service and out.' The doctor growled. His team looked stricken, and not likely to disobey his command, which showed that the threat had succeeded.

* * *

><p>Once in position, the break-in itself was over in a matter of seconds. Inside, however; was where the real problem began.<p>

They hadn't been told which level the equipment was and so that meant checking the entire tower, floor by floor. John gritted his teeth and set to work, knowing that if there was explosives present in the tower then they had to disarm them all before the set time. The rest of the squad had split into threes again and had each taken a floor to sweep, John had opted to go for the very top one, he wanted to keep the remaining team as out of harms way as possible. After climbing the steps up to the top floor, John scanned the room. It was completely bare. On a whim he looked down to the ground. The room wasn't just bare, it was completely clean. There was no dust or dirt on the floor. To say the tower had been abandoned for months, someone had gone out of their way to make sure it hadn't fallen to ruin. He felt a chill on the back of his neck and flicked his eyes up to the ceiling. He felt a cold rush through his veins as he caught sight of the multitude of wires which littered the space above him. Now the doctor didn't even pretend to be a bomb disposal expert but there was no way that anyone would be able to disarm that mass of wires without fear of getting everyone blown sky high. He quickly made his way back downstairs, not wanting to use his radio just in case it had an effect of the explosive device which was less than a metre away from him.

'Captain?' Private Latham asked, slightly worried that the leader was returning so quickly. John nodded at him.

'Has the equipment been found?' He questioned. The private shook his head.

'Negative, but we haven't finished searching the middle floors yet.' He answered. John nodded to himself.

'Join the search in those rooms, keep off the radio and tell everyone else to do the same. There's a large explosive device on the top floor.' The young man looked stricken at this and John held up a hand to stop him. 'It can't be disarmed. We need to search and get out so start helping. Now.' The private nodded and scampered off. John breathed out then followed after the man, checking everywhere he could. A quick glance of his watch told him that they had twenty minutes before the bomb went off, if it went off at the time the note said it would which was always just another risk.

* * *

><p>He finally caught up with the closest group who had just finished sweeping the second floor down. Their expressions said it all, Private Latham had gotten to them, they hadn't found the equipment and they were rather shaken that there was a large bomb above their heads.<p>

'Get down and help the others.' John ordered and the three scampered away.


	24. Chapter 24

_Eight minutes left. _

_Seven and a half minutes._

_Seven minutes._

'Right, get everyone out. We are not going to find it, it's not here. Get out and that's an order.' John commanded to everyone in hearing range. He had already arranged in his mind that when it got to seven minutes, he would get them out with or without the target. Partly so that they were all out before the time but mostly because he didn't trust the terrorists in the slightest.

* * *

><p>Outside, John did a quick head count before ordering the squad as far away as possible.<p>

'Well that was a complete waste.' Private Simmons stated bitterly. John raised an eyebrow but said nothing, he wouldn't be able to say anything which would stop the private from going into a rage of some sort. 'They've got the equipment _and _they've killed Holmes. Wow, maybe if you weren't so heartless, he'd still be alive right now. God I hated the man, but I didn't want him _dead_!' The blond doctor let the man bellow, he needed to get anger out to be able to think properly later. 'I mean come on? How can you stand there all high and mighty when your best friend has died because you were more interested in getting some stupid equipment?' John clenched his jaw. The rest of the squad looked to him for an answer, they had all had the same questions burning through their minds. Never leave a man behind, wasn't that the unspoken law? The doctor suddenly broke into a smile.

'Well this is all well and good but did you know that you are all idiots?' A gruff voice called. The squad turned round with an audible gasp as Sherlock limped forward. John ran to his friend, checking him over. He had various small cuts and bruises. The doctor couldn't see what was causing the limp but he would find out eventually.

'How?' One of the group piped, John didn't quite know who it was. He chuckled.

'Did you really think I would let Sherlock die? I've busted my ass for his sake too many times to let some bloody terrorists murder him.' He answered, casting a smirk to the detective who pouted.

'So how did you manage to do it?' Private Harriet asked, folding her arms across her chest. John smiled.

* * *

><p>'<em>Mycroft?'<em>

'_What can I get you John? I really am very busy, you know. I do have a country to run.'_

'_Well buckle up and listen. Sherlock's got himself in a little bit of trouble.'_

'_I'm listening.'_

_Sherlock blinked in the darkness, he knew it was a trap before it had even happened so he placed stones on the floor to mark out where the best place for an exit would be and waited. Soon enough, the warehouse filled with smoke in a loud explosion. He coughed and gasp as he was roughly grabbed from behind, he lashed out, completely missing his assailants but managing to send the large box, which he had opened en minutes before, cascading to the ground. Pieces fell to the concrete floor. One of the attackers cursed and ordered two of the group to shove the bits into a large bag and carry it outside. Then he turned to Sherlock, gripping the man by the collar._

'_You are going to regret doing that.' He snarled. Sherlock simply smiled._

'_Fix it.' The broken pieces were thrust in front of the detective. He was attached to a chair by the legs, leaving his hands to work._

'_I'm afraid I don't know how.' A man snarled and Sherlock was hit roughly from behind._

'_Fix it.' The man in front of him growled. _

'_I can't.' He was hit again, harder than the last time. _

'_Last chance, fix it.' The tone was deep and threatening but Private Holmes didn't appear phased in the slightest. Instead he rolled his eyes._

'_This really isn't getting through to you, is it?' He questioned condescendingly. There was a sudden heat at the back of his head and Sherlock flinched, turning to look back. One of the men behind him brandished a red hot poker. He gulped and turned back, cracking his fingers._

'_What would you like me to do again?' He asked politely._

* * *

><p><em>Once he'd fixed the equipment, the group left him alone, still shackled to the chair on what appeared to be the top floor of the Westside tower. Not far away from where he'd been captured but far enough away that John wouldn't be able to find him without some help. Still, these terrorists were stupid. They would have taunted the squadron, probably to force them to make a choice. The detective scoffed before becoming dimly aware of a small electrical sound, not quite a buzzing sound but more like a hum. He tried to find where the sound was coming from, not that he needed to. Terrorists these days were so focused on blowing stuff up that they hardly ever did anything original anymore. Dull.<em>

* * *

><p><em>Bang<em>

_Bang_

_Bang_

_Crash_

_Four heavily armed, armoured SWAT officers rolled through the small window one after the other. Sherlock rolled his eyes._

'_My word, do you lot have to be so loud? John could have done that quieter and he has a psychosomatic limp!' He hissed. The officers pulled off the shackles with some device he had never seen before. His ankle wrenched and he hissed in pain._

'_Where is the equipment?' One asked, helping the detective to his feet. Sherlock laughed bluntly._

'_You don't need to worry about that. What you need to worry about is the humming thing which is going to explode at some point.' He replied. Of course the squad had thought there was going to be a bomb but they couldn't hear the humming through the helmets they were wearing. The man who had asked him nodded and helped him to the window, slipping a harness round his waist and clicking him into the rope which one of them had come down. Obviously, two were going to have to share a rope. It was just that no one wanted to share a rope with him in case he deducted them, not that he hadn't already. The rope zoomed upwards with the detective holding on tightly. No one brought up the 'humming noise' again, Sherlock decided it was just in a day's work for Mycroft's minions._

'_Mr Holmes sends his wishes.' Athena stated, sitting on a plush seat with her hair unaffected by the wind which was blowing in through the open doorway, clicking away on her Blackberry. _


	25. Chapter 25

Sherlock stood patiently as his only friend mollycoddled him, checking every bruise and demanding that he say how the limp formed and where it hurts. The squad were completely ignored by the doctor as his attention focused on his patient. The detective rolled his eyes.

'You do have an entire squadron, you know.' He drawled. Doctor Watson smiled.

'Yes, but the rest of my squadron didn't get themselves captured by an terrorist group and used in a hostage situation.' He replied with a borderline chuckle. Sherlock pouted childishly. The SWAT team stood silently behind them, waiting for some reason known only to them.

* * *

><p>Once John had finished his assessment, he turned to the team that Mycroft had sent. The leader of said group stepped forward. Sherlock rolled his eyes and spoke before the leader did.<p>

'In the struggle of my capture I broke the equipment and they tried to get me to fix it. In the end, I did.' There was a gasp of disbelief. The detective cast a 'do you really think I'm that stupid?' glance in the direction of the gasp. 'I crossed a few wires and made a few… improvements to the device. It now has a tracker and should they try to use it, it will act like an EMP gun and fry all close by electronic equipment.' The consulting detective explained proudly. John bit his tongue to keep from uttering the 'amazing' which wanted to bounce from his lips. The SWAT team leader nodded and made a couple of hand signals which sent the rest of the team back to the helicopter. Athena stepped out and swayed over, Blackberry ever-present in her hands. She smiled at John then turned to Sherlock.

'Your brother requests that you return home _before _you get captured by someone clever enough to know who you are and how important you are to Britain. He worries about your safety constantly.' The detective looked at her then turned back to John and the small squadron.

'When have I ever done anything that my brother asked?' He questioned. Athena smiled ruefully.

'I give him your reply then. We'll see you when your tour of duty ends.' With that, the female assistant of the British government climbed back into the helicopter and closed the door.

* * *

><p>The company, now back at their makeshift base, settled down in a large circle. Odd though it was, it felt comfortable for the group, they could see the whole unit and the unit could see them. Private Simmons grinned.<p>

'I call circle time.' He yelled. John groaned, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep but he was booed until he conceded, it seemed that the soldiers needed to unwind and this was the only way they knew how (which didn't involve guns or alcohol). Sherlock smirked and bagged the first question.

'John.' He asked. 'Before you came here, you were a major. Why did you allow them to dock your rank to a captain?' The doctor glared at him. The surprised look on the rest of the groups face showed that they hadn't even realised he was a major. Major Watson did have a ring to it. He waited for many moments before replying.

'I didn't think I would be able to cope with the responsibility that came with such a rank.' The doctor answered truthfully, 'I mean, I had a sneaking suspicion that you would drag your ass over here to haunt me and it takes all my strength just to keep _you_ from dying.' He chuckled, a laugh which was joined- first by Sherlock and then by the rest of the group. 'But seriously though, it was my decision.' The detective nodded, knowing there was something else in that but Sherlock was unwilling to press him in front of his squad, pressing John for any answer he didn't want to give was risky. Sort of like squeezing a water balloon, you think youve nearly got your answer and suddenly he explodes in a torrent of anger.

'You didn't have to answer it, you know.' He stated. 'As no one else here has changed rank, no one else can answer the question there by you didn't need to either.' John smiled.

'Yes but as I was the only one to answer the question, I can choose the next question.' The team smirked, their captain was making up the rules as he went along. 'What's your biggest injury or scar?' Sherlock's eyes widened then he glared at his best friend with utter hatred.

'Bastard.' He growled. Captain Watson laughed maniacally and stripped his shirt to show his scar, earning another round of gasps as most hadn't seen a proper bullet wound yet. God, it was going to be funny when it got to Sherlock's turn, John thought as he cast the man a sly wink.

**The End?**

* * *

><p><strong>AN- <strong>I don't know whether to leave it here or do a sequel, please let me know what you think.  
>Ok, a guessing game! What is Sherlock's injury? It's something that John knows so keep that in mind.<p>

I know it's taken a long time and I'm not the most reliable of updaters... or at all reliable with my updates. Ever. But still, thanks for putting up with me and this story.

B  
>x<p> 


	26. Announcement

Hi everyone.

In case you haven't noticed, I've put up a sequel to this fic titled 'Afghan Sun'. I know it's been a long time coming.

B  
>x<p> 


End file.
